


seasons change (but my love for you remains the same)

by imaginationwell



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff & Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I'll add tags as things happen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Time Skips, actually they're in high school too for a while, can you tell i have no idea what i'm doing, lol idk what this is, panic attack & just general descriptions of what anxiety feels like, the background relationship is jilix btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-10-24 20:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationwell/pseuds/imaginationwell
Summary: the crash of waves, the salty sea air, the caramel-colored sunsets, and kim seungmin: constants in his life, anchors that kept him sane and gave him hope.when they leave the cracked streets and broken streetlamps of their hometown behind, kim seungmin's all that he has left.and hyunjin's too much of a coward to lose that, too.or: in which hyunjin has feelings and seungmin has feelings and they're both idiots





	1. beginning

_then_

“You know you’d be failing high school if it weren’t for me, right?” Seungmin asked, handing Hyunjin his meticulously taken notes without looking up.

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t survive without me. Why else do you keep giving me your notes?”

They were sitting by the vending machines in the local library, Hyunjin cross-legged on top of the table, a bag of chips open by his feet and a pencil twirling in his hand. Seungmin sat in a chair (like a normal person), next to him, shoving Hyunjin away by poking the soles of his sneakers with an eraser. The sun’s afternoon rays shone through the windows across from them, illuminating the dust hanging in the air. A seabreeze carried the sound of waves crashing against a rocky beach to their little corner in the library.

These moments were the ones Hyunjin collected, written in phrases in the margins of his notebook— _the spray of the ocean, an incessant ticking of the clock, sunlight making Seungmin’s profile glow in the dull room_. They were the reason Hyunjin always borrowed Seungmin’s notes. They were the reason he still had hope.

“Hey,” Seungmin’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “What’s the ratio of the ion transference in a sodium-potassium pump?”

Hyunjin squinted.

“Are you asking me or quizzing me?”

“Quizzing. Also, did you forget your glasses today too?”

Hyunjin scoffed.

“Of _course_ not. Forgetting would imply an accident, and I very much made a conscious decision to leave my glasses at home today.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“If I tell you you look cute in them will you start wearing them?”

Hyunjin pretended he couldn’t feel a blush working its way up his neck.

“Sure,” he smiled. “I’ll ignore your blatant vanity and wear them.”

“Or I just don’t want you to be legally blind before you turn 20, but sure,” Seungmin grumbled. “Also, answer the question. You know we have a test tomorrow, right?”

“Wait, _what_ —”

 

The sun was setting by the time they finished studying (read: Seungmin finished teaching Hyunjin the whole unit), and Hyunjin insisted they get out before golden hour. (He wouldn’t ever admit out loud it was because he loved the way Seungmin’s eyelashes turned golden and his skin a warm honey, the literal embodiment of the sun).

“Hey,” Hyunjin says after a few minutes of silence. They’ve been friends for so long there was no awkward silence. “Let’s go to the beach.”

Seungmin hummed. “I’m not the one who doesn’t know what’s happening in class.”

“Just until the sun sets! The ocean looks so good reflecting the sunset,” Hyunjin exclaimed.

Laughing, Seungmin just pulled him along.

“Come on, you sentimental piece of shit. Let’s look at the sunset.”

And Hyunjin did _not_ blush.

 

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t leave after sunset. Hyunjin’s reasoning was that they already had sand in their hair and shoes, so might as well make the best of it. Seungmin’s reasoning was that Hyunjin was a stubborn idiot.

They lay under the blanket of the night sky, pinpricks of light dotting the darkness, drawing out constellations you wouldn’t be able to see in most parts of the world.

“Find Orion,” Seungmin whispered. Not because there were other people there, but by virtue of an empty beach at night speaking any louder would feel like a violation.

Hyunjin squinted up at the (blurry) stars, looking for the three stars that made up Orion’s belt. Seungmin had been teaching him to identify the constellations, but they always seemed too abstract, too far away; he didn’t understand how a few stars could be connected to make vague pictures with elaborate storylines. Plus, it seemed boring only looking for things people had already found. He had more fun making his own constellations.

Still, Seungmin’s voice was rough and heavy, his breath ghosting against the shell of his ear, and Hyunjin did his best despite his blurry vision to find Orion.

He felt Seungmin shaking next to him, shoulders moving against his own, and realized Seungmin was laughing at him.

“Bring your glasses next time,” he whispered, then guided his hand to point to the three stars.

“Orion’s belt,” he murmured, then dragged his hand upward.

“Aldebaran.”

And then, moving his hand in the opposite direction: “Sirius, which is part of Canis Major—”

“Dog star!” Hyunjin exclaimed.

Seungmin laughed. Hyunjin shivered.

“Dog star,” he confirmed.

 

* * *

 

Hyunjin and Seungmin had been friends since they were born, but they became _best_ friends in the fourth grade.

It happened when Hyunjin wore nail polish to school.

The day before, Hyunjin was at Seungmin’s house because his parents had to go a wedding dinner rehearsal and Hyunjin couldn’t stay at home alone.

They did what they always did; played video games, ate, played outside with Seungmin’s dog, ate some more, played some more. That day, though, Seungmin’s older sister, Nayeon, was sitting in the living room with them, putting on nail polish as she watched them battle for first place on rainbow road.

“Hyunjinnie, no, Seungmin will win, _don’t_ —” she yelled. A red shell appeared in front of Hyunjin’s cart, and Seungmin raced past the finish line. Hyunjin crossed his arms.

“Ah, look what you made me do,” Nayeon huffed, looking down at her nails. A bright white line of paint stretched from the tip of her finger to her knuckle. As she began cleaning it and repainting the ruined nail, Hyunjin crept closer to watch what she was doing.

“Wow,” he breathed, “your hands look so pretty now.”

Nayeon made a face at him. “What, they weren’t pretty before?”

When she saw his face, though, she softened.

“Hyunjinnie,” she asked, “do you want me to paint your nails?”

Hyunjin might’ve been nine years old, but he knew by then boys didn’t wear nail polish. But when he looked at Seungmin, his face lit up.

“Let’s paint our nails matching colors,” Seungmin exclaimed.

So Nayeon picked a dark, sparkly blue and painted both their nails, and they walked to school the next day a little nervous and a lot excited.

In class, Hyunjin sat next to a girl named Yeji who gushed over his nails and any nervousness he had had left his body.

 

At recess, two boys approached him.

“Hey,” the bigger one said, grabbing Hyunjin’s shoulder and turning him around. Before he could say anything, the other guy pushed him, hard, and Hyunjin managed to reach his arm behind him right before he hit the ground so he didn’t fall onto his back. He felt something twist. Hot tears started to pool in his eyes and lump formed in his throat.

“Fag,” the first boy snarled, and raised his foot. Hyunjin closed his eyes.

“San!” a familiar voice flooded his ears, though he’d never heard it sound so angry. He heard small footsteps approaching, then stop right next to him.

“I know you still sleep with a night light and teddy bear,” the familiar voice whispered.

“ _What_ —no, Minjun, he’s lying—” the first voice, San, stuttered out. Hyunjin heard footsteps receding.

“Creep!” San yelled, and his footsteps started backing away, too. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! Whatever, I don’t care what you and your boyfriend think, anyway.”

The second set of footsteps ran away.

Slowly, Hyunjin opened his eyes, and saw Seungmin kneeling next to him. He smiled.

“How did you even know that?” Hyunjin whispered.

“Seungmin grinned. “My mom thinks I can’t hear her talking to her friends in the living room.”

When school ended that day, Hyunjin asked Seungmin to be his best friend. Seungmin looked at him, puzzled.

“Weren’t we already best friends?”

 

The next day, they went to the beach together.

 

* * *

 

_now_

Two months into college, and Hyunjin and Seungmin find themselves at a frat party. They both have a red cup (with some very questionable liquid inside) in their hands, but only Hyunjin has the liquid flowing through his veins, too. The bass is reverberating through body; he feels the vibrations in every bone; he feels the alcohol making his senses fuzzy, erasing the filter between his brain and his mouth.

“Hey, Seungmin,” he slurs. Seungmin glares at him, still angry for forcing him to go to a _frat party_ , but his features soften when he sees how completely wasted Hyunjin is.

“Never thought you’d turn out to be a lightweight,” he snorts. Hyunjin swats at his arm.

“ _Seungmin_ ,” he whines. Hyunjin’s practically draped himself over Seungmin’s body. There's a blush crawling up Seungmin's neck, coloring his face light pink, probably from the heat and press of bodies around them.

“Why’d you get so drunk, anyway,” he mutters under his breath. Hyunjin ignores it.

“You look so pretty,” Hyunjin sighs into the crook of Seungmin’s neck. In the dark blur of people laughing and dancing around them, Seungmin is glowing. Red and blue and purple lights dance across his face, reflecting off his brown hair, turning his lips different colors. Impulsively, Hyunjin reaches up to touch them. They’re as soft as he imagined.

“Your lips are so pretty,” he whispers. He feels Seungmin tense under him, but in Hyunjin’s muddled state of mind he doesn’t understand why.

Hyunjin drags his fingers across his cheeks, drawing small circles around the birthmark above his jaw. He feels Seungmin’s hands slide, hesitantly, down his back. A shiver runs through his spine. Sliding his hands around his neck, he lets his fingers dance at the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny strands of hair. Hyunjin had helped him style it before the party, using a curler and a tiny bit of hair gel to part his hair away from his forehead. Hyunjin stares.

“I like your forehead,” he murmurs, and then kisses him there. Barely a kiss, even; a slight brush of lips against skin. He doesn’t look at Seungmin’s face, just closes his eyes and rests his head against Seungmin’s shoulder.

“I want to go home,” he says, suddenly exhausted.

Seungmin is quiet, for maybe a second too long.

“Okay, Hyunjin,” he finally says. “Let’s go home.”

 

The next day, Hyunjin notices Seungmin seems reserved. Hyunjin’s seen this mood, knows they can last for days before he admits what’s bothering him.

“Seungmin,” he blurts, when he’s getting ready to leave for his afternoon lecture. “What’s wrong?”

He stares at him, and for the first time in his life, Hyunjin can’t read his face. A trickle of uneasiness runs down his back. _Everything’s going to change._

“Do you remember last night?”

Last night, the party. Hyunjin remembers a blur of faces and a cup in his hand and a rainbow of lights and soft skin under his fingertips.

“What, exactly, about…last night?” Hyunjin ventures cautiously. He remembers a swell of emotions, too: confidence and nervousness, excitement and fear.

Seungmin stares at him, eyes boring holes to Hyunjin’s soul. Even five feet away Hyunjin can feel the cogs turning inside his brain.

“Never mind,” he says, finally. He looks away. “You should go; you’re already late.”

Hyunjin doesn’t really give a fuck if he’s late to a lecture and Seungmin knows that, but—

Eighteen years.

He doesn’t push it.

As Hyunjin leaves, he felt something break inside his chest. _Everything’s going to change_.

 

* * *

 

_then_

Hyunjin’s mom wouldn’t stop crying and hugging him, which would have been fine if Seungmin wasn’t standing right behind him with his not-so-discreet giggling.

“Mom, _please_ , I’m not leaving for another three _months_ —”

She just started crying harder.

“Hyunjin-ah,” she started, untangling her hands from around his waist. She cupped his face and gazed up at him. “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

Hyunjin smiled, despite himself.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled. “But, seriously, _three months_.”

 

Hyunjin finally pried himself away when his mom started talking to Seungmin’s parents, and Hyunjin and Seungmin speed walked away as fast as they could before someone started crying again. They walked over to the chairs and sat down, Hyunjin excitedly babbling about their newfound freedom. After a lull in the conversation, Hyunjin realized how strangely quiet Seungmin seemed.

“I don’t understand why everyone’s making such a big deal about the whole graduation thing,” Hyunjin jokingly complained. Seungmin didn’t respond.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked lightly. Seungmin sighed and offered a small smile. After eighteen years, Hyunjin knew not to push it. Seungmin would talk to him when he was ready.

After a few silent minutes, Seungmin said, “It’s bittersweet.”

“Why?” Hyunjin asked, confused. “Nothing’s changing. We’re going to a school only three hours away, and we’re going together. The only difference is that we’ll be living together.”

Seungmin smiled. It’s a small and sad smile, and seeing it made Hyunjin’s nerves jittery and uneasy.

“Everything’s going to change,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

Hyunjin was sitting at his desk, staring at the blinking cursor on a blank Word document. The black line stared back, taunting him, mocking him. His creative writing submission was due in 48 hours and 26 minutes, and Hyunjin’s head felt like the Spongebob episode where the little Spongebobs in his brain had emptied out all the filing cabinets in his brain.

He let his head fall forward, hoping whatever keysmash showed up on the screen would give him inspiration.

_gvbvf_

He tried again.

_hyyjuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu_

“I’m useless!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “No! _You’re_ useless.” He glared at the cursor. Blinking, taunting, laughing.

“You sound clinically insane,” a voice informed him. Hyunjin whipped around in his chair.

“Please,” Hyunjin begged, “admit me to a hospital. I won’t have to turn this piece in.”

Seungmin, setting down an americano on his desk, looked over Hyunjin’s shoulder at his laptop.

“I don’t know, jinnie, this looks pretty good to me.”

Hyunjin stood up and collapsed into his bed.

“Thanks,” he muttered into his pillow. A moment later, he felt a weight settle at the edge of his bed and warm hands work their way through his hair. Sleep pulled treacherously at his eyelids, and suddenly he felt tired to his bones.

“Sleep, jinnie,” a warm voice ghosted across his skin. Hyunjin was standing at the edge of a precipice, staring into the darkness below.

“But you bought me coffee,” he mumbled, or maybe he didn’t. Everything felt fuzzy.

A small laugh shook the cliff Hyunjin was standing on. The rock cracked, and he fell.

 

* * *

 

Second semester of their senior year of high school, and they still found themselves at the same table in the same library with the same brand of chips. Hyunjin, cross-legged on the table, and Seungmin, in the chair next to him. New eraser, same brand, poking at the same old shoes.

Seungmin had his earbuds in, that day, studiously completing his homework while Hyunjin ate his chips and scrolled through his phone. Normally, Hyunjin would’ve at least lied to himself about eventually doing the homework, but those days there seemed to be pressing finality to each of the sunsets they watched on the beach. Nothing felt important except the way Seungmin’s hair fell in front of his face and his brows furrowed the tiniest bit when confronted by a difficult problem.

Putting his phone down, Hyunjin penned these thoughts onto paper. Scraps, fragments, bits and pieces of the mess in Hyunjin’s brain.

When Seungmin took out his earbuds, Hyunjin looked up.

“Can I tell you something?”

Hyunjin nodded, a little confused. Seungmin could have killed a man and Hyunjin would’ve helped hide the body, no questions asked.

“I like boys.”

The whirring of the vending machine seemed too loud, grating against his ears. The white lights were too harsh. The sun was sinking, hiding, its rays bleeding out and staining the ground.

“Okay.”

Hyunjin remembered fourth grade. The two of them never talked about the incident again, but the words the bully had hurled at him repeated in his head like a record player for a week. _Fag_. He didn’t know what it meant, back then, but he knew it wasn’t good. He knew it was something he didn’t want to be.

“Just…okay?”

But Hyunjin was eight years older and wiser. In fifth grade, he learned what a fag was thanks to the wonders of the Internet. In sixth grade, he learned that it _wasn’t_ a bad thing, just a bad word. And in seventh grade he learned that the people in this town would never understand that.

“Of course. Nothing changes, right?”

So in eighth grade, when he was 13 years old, he pulled down all his posters of Got7 from his wall and started telling people he wanted to _be_ like Jinyoung-hyung rather than meet him and hold his hand like what girls do at fansigns.

“Yeah…yeah, nothing changes.”

Seungmin bent his head over his homework again until hair fell into his eyes. Hyunjin picked up his notebook and ran his fingers across his most recent entry.

They were quiet on the walk to the beach. There was something wrong. The seagulls’ cries were too sharp, the sun’s rays too harsh.

They didn’t stay long, that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have never in my life ever written this much. i somehow wrote all this in one sitting. 2.8k may not seem like much but listen the most i've written EVER in TOTAL before that was 3k words and that took like 6 months and it's still not even close to being finished. who am i. i am who.
> 
> oh and a reminder! this is written in 3rd person limited POV, meaning that you only see Hyunjin's thoughts & how he perceives everything. not everything he says/sees is entirely accurate!!
> 
> so yea before i could lose confidence i decided to fuck it & post this we'll how this goes :)
> 
> n e way thx for reading ily lots pls leave kudos & comments maybe they'll motivate me
> 
> xx


	2. middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY DFJSDFKSDKFH I DONT EVEN HAVE AN EXCUSE  
> so, a few of things:
> 
> 1\. this is my first multi-chap!! that i'm going to finish!!!! so this is still an accomplishment, albeit 2 months late  
> 2\. i put jilix in the tags but as i was writing this chapter i realized i couldn't include them without making it seem forced, so. it'll remain background. (maybe i might turn this into a series and write jilix later.....👀)  
> 3\. i added stuff to the tags; there is a description of a panic attack in this chapter. i don't think it's too graphic, but you know yourself so please take care & don't read if you can't <3

_then_

First day of class, Hyunjin was sitting his chair, nervously bouncing his legs and looking around the room. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for; someone friendly, maybe, or someone who looked just as lost as he did.

A few minutes and a fruitless search later, the professor walked in, and Hyunjin resigned himself to a boring lecture and a lonely afternoon class.

The professor introduced herself and already started to read from the syllabus—which, what the fuck, Hyunjin hadn’t even known there _was_ a syllabus—but suddenly the door burst open and a student came rushing into the lecture hall. The professor didn’t even look up, probably used to late freshmen, and the boy hurried to the nearest open seat.

Which was, coincidentally, right next to Hyunjin.

 _This is a sign_ , he thought, because he was a creative writing major, and he turned and put his hand out.

“Hi! I’m Hwang Hyunjin!” he faux-whispered.

The boy looked taken aback, frozen where he was bent over his half-open backpack.

“Oh! Um, hi, I’m Lee Felix,” the boy, Felix, stuttered out. He took his hand and shook it, Hyunjin’s large fingers easily enveloping Felix’s tiny ones. His speech had an interesting cadence to it, emphasis sometimes falling on the wrong syllables, his mouth fitting clumsily around the shape of the words. His voice was deep, too, low and rough.

 _Bass-boosted_ , he thought amusedly.

Hyunjin watched him from the corner of his eyes as he shoved his phone and earbuds into his backpack and took out a laptop.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked. Felix started again.

“Is it that easy to tell?” He laughed nervously, eyes downcast.

“A little bit, but don’t worry about it. Everyone is too busy worrying about themselves fitting in,” Hyunjin mused. “And plus, your name kind of gives it away.”

Felix’s face relaxed a little and smiled.

“Thanks, Hyunjin.”

 

Felix was like Hyunjin: introverted yet sociable, quiet upon first impression but annoyingly loud with people they were comfortable with. They became fast friends, both of them new and unfamiliar with their surroundings.

After that first class, the two of them decided to wander around and explore campus, still unused to the concept of free time.

“It’s like, I didn’t have time to do anything in high school! And now I have nothing to do with my time,” Felix exclaimed. His Korean got more stilted when he was excited, but Hyunjin thought it was impressive how he’d already learned so much of the language in only three months.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” Hyunjin warned, “When you’re up at 2am cramming for a chem test.”  
“Ugh, why’s that class even required? I’m a _dance_ major.”

Hyunjin whipped his head around. “Really? I love to dance!”

And their friendship blossomed.

 

The next day, Hyunjin and Felix met up with Felix’s roommate, Han Jisung, at a small café on campus. According to Felix, he was a music composition major, had dyed his hair three times in the two months Felix had known him, had a tendency to take showers in the middle of the night, and was really fucking annoying.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Why’re you still rooming with him, then?” he asked knowingly.

“Shut up,” Felix responded good-naturedly, and Hyunjin dropped the topic.

It still felt weird to him, being able to talk so openly about that kind of…stuff. The university was only three hours away from his hometown, but it felt like a whole different world. People were kind to each other, open with each other. There were no ulterior motives hidden behind their smiles. No judgmental thoughts hidden behind their eyes.

It felt nice.

 

They found Jisung at booth in the corner with his laptop open and headphones around his neck, brows furrowed and deep in thought. The first thing Hyunjin noticed was his hair: a bright, obnoxious orange that made him immediately think of a carrot.

“He’s been trying to get me to dye my hair orange, too,” Felix said.

Jisung looked up. “It would match your freckles!” he exclaimed as they approached, glaring at Felix (whose cheeks were not normally that red, Hyunjin noted) as they approached the table. A couple people around them turned, exasperated, and Jisung shrunk into his seat.

“Oh, I’m Han Jisung, by the way,” he said sheepishly, voice exaggeratedly quiet. Hyunjin laughed and shook his outstretched hand.

“Hwang Hyunjin.”

He decided that the universe would definitely have regrets about putting the three of them together.

 

* * *

_now_

When Hyunjin gets back to the dorm, Seungmin is gone.

It’s a Tuesday, which means that Hyunjin usually goes to the cafe with Felix and Jisung after his lecture. But something from the morning’s conversation had left him feeling off, unsettled. Giving Felix a half-assed excuse, he’d ran to the nearest convenience store to buy Seungmin’s favorite ramen, and then sprinted back, only to stand in the doorway, looking at two empty beds.

Really, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal—Hyunjin doesn’t have a monopoly on Seungmin’s time, doesn’t need to know where he is every hour—but Seungmin is a creature of habit. If he goes somewhere, he texts Hyunjin because he _knows_ Hyunjin worries.

Sighing, he sets the plastic bag down on his desk and decides to wait.

He pulls out his notebook from the bottom of drawer, and writes.

It wasn’t quite a diary—saying so would imply organization, and Hyunjin’s notebook was anything but organized. His words were written around the page, vertically, diagonally, with no regard to the pre-printed lines. Most of them weren’t even full sentences, either: quotes, or a new word he’d learned, or phrases that flitted through his brain that he wrote down before he could forget them. Sometimes he did spill his feelings onto the pages, on nights when everything felt hopeless and bleak. But flipping through the pages, he found that most of those entries were half finished. Somehow, Seungmin always found him, huddled in the bathroom, on his bed, with his notebook clutched in his ink-stained hands. Seungmin was always there to pick him up.

 

Two hours later, there’s still no sign of Seungmin, and Hyunjin is starving. He’d sent 14 texts in a row before realizing that the buzzing sound was actually Seungmin’s phone, sitting on his desk across the room. Seungmin _never_ left without his phone. Deciding that he’d file a missing persons report after 24 hours, Hyunjin finally gets up and goes to the common room to fill his ramen cup with hot water.

The common room is warm, small groups of people huddled on couches or around tables. It’s part of the things he likes about college—the shared feeling of loneliness and camaraderie. Looking around the room, the back of a boy’s head catches his eye.

 _Seungmin’s hair_ , Hyunjin thinks, before he turns around.

Seungmin’s eyes catch Hyunjin’s, and relief floods his body. He starts walking towards him, barely paying attention to the people he’s sitting with, people he doesn’t recognize; barely paying attention to the coldness in his eyes, when—

He turns his back to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin stops dead in his tracks, confused and hurt.

 _Maybe he didn’t see me_ , he thinks, naively, _maybe he didn’t recognize me_.

He’s not stupid, though.

Turning around, he walks back to his room.

 

Sometime in the dead of night, Hyunjin hears the door open. He’s half-asleep, in the in-between stages of dream and reality, and he can’t quite tell if there’s someone in the room. A few moments pass, and Hyunjin is about to fall asleep, when he hears—

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin.” His voice is quiet, subdued, regretful. Hyunjin waits, but Seungmin says nothing else.

Hyunjin clings to that voice as he falls.

 

When he wakes up, everything from the day before seems like a dream. He stares at the ceiling for a good ten minutes before deciding to move up to a sitting position. Seungmin’s bed is made, which is no surprise, but the bag of ramen that Hyunjin bought yesterday was still sitting untouched on his desk. The only reason he knows Seungmin even came back last night is because he remembers his voice, but he’s starting to doubt that, too.

He kicks his legs over the side of the bed, blindly reaching around for his phone. He squints against the bright screen, before looking at the time. A _12:03_ blinks up at him.

Hyunjin’s brow furrows. Seungmin is usually back by 11. Dread starts to settle in Hyunjin’s stomach. Seungmin’s voice from last night is ringing through his head; a faint, regretful _sorry_ that sounded eerily like a goodbye.

He opens his phone and send a text to Felix and Jisung to meet him at the cafe.

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, they’re sitting at their booth, Hyunjin’s head buried in his arms as Jisung and Felix process Hyunjin’s rant.

“Oh! And!” Hyunjin jolts up, “His phone is _still_ on his desk! Hasn’t moved since last night! Do you know how _not_ Seungmin that is?”

The two boys sitting across from him exchange a look; within two seconds, they manage to have an entire conversation, which infuriates Hyunjin.

“That is weird,” Jisung begins slowly. “Considering how close you and Seungmin were at the party.”

Hyunjin furrows his brows. “What does that— What does that even _mean_?”

Jisung and Felix exchange another look.

“Stop doing that!” Hyunjin exclaims, half whining and half exasperated. “Seungmin mentioned the party, too, yesterday morning, but I don’t remember anything.”

“All we’re saying is that you two looked really…comfortable together.” Felix says elusively.

There’s a sick feeling growing in Hyunjin’s stomach again, the kind that grows in awkward, uncomfortable, scary situations. He tries to ignore it, but his lungs feel constricted, like a thick rubber band was slowly tightening its grip around his chest. Fragments of memories push their way to the surface of his mind— _a blur of faces and a cup in his hand and a rainbow of lights and soft skin under his fingertips._

Lips, hair, jaw.

Hyunjin can’t breathe.

“Hey,” Jisung’s voice breaks him out of his reverie. Somehow he’s able to tone his loud voice into a soft, soothing timbre, and air rushes into Hyunjin’s lungs. “Look, it’s okay, just talk to him. You’ve known him all your life, right?”

Yeah, Hyunjin’s known Seungmin all his life. That’s what’s so terrifying.

Instead, he just nods, eyes vacant and brain panicking. He can’t do this. He can’t, he _can’t_ —

“I gotta go,” he says, abruptly standing up and slamming his hands on the table with more force than necessary. Jisung and Felix just look at him sadly.

“Call us, yeah?” Felix says, “we’re right here.”

Hyunjin can’t stand their pity. He barely registers what Felix is saying before he runs out the door.

 

* * *

 

_then_

Junior year of high school, Hyunjin was lamenting about his lack of a girlfriend. They sat next to each other in math, the only class they had together that year. It was a work day, which meant they had time to complete homework assignments. Unsurprisingly, no one was getting much work done, Seungmin and Hyunjin included. They were bickering about something or the other, pretending to do the trig problems on their worksheet, when Hyunjin brought it up.

“Seungmin,” he whined dramatically, “why are we so single?”

Girlfriends wasn’t really a topic that was brought up between them; Seungmin would sometimes tease him about the abundance of love letters that fell out of his locker at the end of the day, but other than that they rarely talked about dating. Hyunjin didn’t really know why he had brought it up, but he immediately regretted it when Seungmin averted his gaze to stare at his worksheet instead.

“You could literally get any girl in this school,” Seungmin joked. His voice was strained. There was a weird feeling in Hyunjin’s chest, something he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) put a name to.

“If I got a girlfriend, you’d have to get one too,” Hyunjin said, trying desperately to rid himself of the tightening in his lungs.

Seungmin just laughed, humorlessly. He didn’t respond.

 

At the end of class, he asked a girl sitting at the table next to his out on a date. He didn’t remember her name. He pretended not to notice Seungmin leave class without him. He kissed the girl after school in the parking lot, and told himself that the feeling in his chest was love. When she broke up with him a month later, he told himself that the feeling in his chest was heartbreak.

Hyunjin had cried on Seungmin’s shoulder on the beach that day. At school the day after, he heard from someone else that the reason she broke up with him was because he spent too much time with Seungmin.

He told himself that the feeling in his chest was betrayal.

 

* * *

 

_now_

It’s the end of November, the tree branches nearly bare; crisp, brown leaves littering the sidewalks; scarves and hats and thick winter coats emerging from the depths of a closet as the wind picks up speed. With the threat of finals looming less two weeks away, the average caffeine consumption of any particular student on campus goes up by at least 100 mg, and the tension is tangible in the chilly air.

It’s been exactly three weeks since that night— _I’m sorry, Hyunjin_ —and the only way Hyunjin knows how to cope is to throw himself into work.

It’s horribly cliché, Hyunjin thinks. He had never characterized himself as a workaholic; he’s always been carefree, never doing more than was asked of him. But now he fills every available time slot with something or the other, because there’s _always_ a test to study for, a presentation to prepare for, an essay to research for. He doesn’t allow himself free time, doesn’t allow himself an opportunity for his mind to rest or his thoughts to wander because that will inevitably lead to him thinking about Seungmin and everything that went wrong.

He’s in the library—being in the dorm hurts—staring at hexagons and squiggly lines and chemical symbols that litter the page in front of him. His earbuds are plugged in, the volume loud enough to drown out both external and internal noise. Jisung sits across from him.

Hyunjin had invited him to keep up the ruse that everything was fine, but the moment he knocked on his door and saw the concern in his eyes he had regretted it.

 _One more problem_ , he tells himself, trying to bring his eyes into focus. _One more and then we can take a nap_. He feels his eyelids getting heavy, slowly closing; he can’t will himself to open them again.

He falls into a dream.

 

_He’s back home. He feels at peace, happy, content. The sand is warm under his body. The waves crash, distantly. The sun, directly above his head, sits in a clear blue sky. He squints against its rays. A slight breeze ruffles his hair, cools his skin. His lungs take in the sweet, salty air._

_He’s home._

_A shadow casts itself over his face, suddenly, and Hyunjin bristles, before realizing who it is. He smiles softly._

_Home._

_“I love you,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s as easy as breathing. His lips shape the words as if he’s been saying them his entire life, like they were always meant to._

_There’s no reply. The sand next to him shifts, and the shadow is gone. The sun glares at him, its light blinding and white hot. His eyes burn._

 

Hyunjin jolts awake, breathing hard and shallow, his chest burning and his stomach tightening. The tears are already falling, big droplets staining his textbook, and there’s a lump in his throat that makes him feel like he’s choking. Jisung is already at his side, hands strong around his shoulders, fingers cupping Hyunjin’s cheek and bringing him to his chest. He burrows his face into Jisung’s neck, tries to focus on the smell of his hair or the feeling of his arms around him, but Hyunjin is _drowning_.

“Wait, wait,” Jisung whispers, shifting in his seat, “I saw this on a TV show. Lean down, and put your head between you knees”

Hyunjin doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he listens to Jisung and lets his arms guide him.

“Breathe, Hyunjin. Focus on my voice—” Jisung stops abruptly, and the warning bells in Hyunjin’s mind keep getting louder and _louder_ —

“In for four, Hyunjin,” a voice breathes, smooth like a flowing river, “in, three, two, one; now hold, three, two, one; and out, three, two, one. Good, Hyunjin, let’s do it again, okay?”

Hyunjin holds on like a lifeline.

 

Seungmin sits across from him on his bed. Hyunjin is nursing a cup of hot chocolate, letting the warmth seep through cup into his body. The silence is starting to become suffocating.

"Hyunjin," Seungmin whispers, after what feels like an eternity. He refuses to look at him, guilt and embarrassment eating away at his insides.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry," Hyunjin says at the same time.

They look at each other for a second, before smiling, and looking away. Something breaks in Hyunjin's chest.  _What went wrong?_

 _You did,_ a voice informs him.

"This is my fault," Seungmin continues, oblivious to Hyunjin's internal turmoil. "You don't have to be sorry."

Hyunjin stares at him, dumbfounded. "No, I— I'm the one who ignored you, and— the party; I didn't even mean to, I swear—"

"The party?" Seungmin cuts him off. "You remember?"

Hyunjin nods, frantic. "I'm sorry, Minnie, I don't know what happened—can we please go back to normal?"

Seungmin doesn't say anything for a long time. Hyunjin is aware of every breath he takes.

"You should hate me," Seungmin says, slowly standing up.

"I could never hate you," Hyunjin replies, instinctively. His eyes track Seungmin's retreating form. The next words slip out of his mouth. "I could love you though, if you let me."

Seungmin's eyes widen.

"I'm...sorry."

He leaves, and Hyunjin lets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. this was much harder to write than part 1  
> 5\. if part 3 isn't up by the end of may, assume i am dead  
> 6\. a coherent plot? what is that, a type of sauce?


End file.
